On my Watch
by netherlady
Summary: By focusing on related key points in the original plot of HR, this fic sheds a darker light on Jayden's addictive habits; with Blake as our witness. No yaoi!
1. Prologue

**On my Watch**

I would appreciate telling me what do you think of Blake's characterization and metaphor usage.

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**Prologue**

Being his calm and collected self who always think before acting, Jayden realized that there was something wrong as his frantic gaze meet the empty one of Nathanial Williams. Dully, he lowered his gun as if he was trying to hide the fact that his own weapon has finally claimed its first victim; however the lingering traces of smoke reminded him otherwise as they drifted lazily in the still air. With a dry mouth, he stuttered audibly, "I-I shot him… Oh my God!", then let the sore realization sink in. As if he needed a confirmation from his so-called partner, he heard a sarcastic remark in the distant, "It looks like it, Kid." Blake's presence re-registered in his mind.

Jayden froze and felt fixed by his partner's cold gaze and repulsing sneer. He felt cornered and immediately shifted to defense, "He was reaching into his pocket. I'd to act fast or he would've…", "What? Killed me?" Blake interrupted before he dragged on lazily, "He couldn't!"; the retrieved crucifix was waved in emphasis. As if the dead body was not enough burden, that damn Blake had to increase it with his little revelation. Horror, anger, guilt and frustration formed a roaring vortex that was withering wildly inside his tightening chest. Shaky fingers rubbed his shut eyes before they gathered and descended below trying to calm his frantic pants but to no avail.

'Jee! A first timer...' Blake thought with mild frustration as he observed the young cop from down where he was crouching near their victim. He knew how difficult was always the first time – sure he had experienced it long ago and saw many new recruits go through it under his watch. Yet, he knew better than trying to ease it for the stricken agent simply because there was no way. The smug kid has to deal with whatever feelings on his own since Blake was not going to babysit him – He couldn't even if he wanted for the lack of compassion required to carry on the act. A tired sigh was release before he averted his gaze again to the lifeless body and pulled his radio off to go through the usual drill.

With his partner finding new interest in exercising authority over the radio, Jayden cornered mind urged him to cease the chance and flee the scene. Instantly, he staggered backward few uneven steps before he ran to the adjacent room hoping to leash whatever beast was thrashing inside and claiming the little air that he was dragging in. However, the accumulating dust and cheap candles burns were there denying him precious air again. "Tripto! Tripto will drive it away!" He chanted desperately; all logic swept to the back of his foggy mind.

Shaky steps found their way through the hazy corridor and ended up in the small bathroom. He stumbled in and the door was shut behind with a feeble thump desperate to shelter her refugee from harsh reality outside. His pale face was even sicker when it peered back at him through the grimy bathroom mirror. His red eyes did not promise anything better either as they sank deeper in the darkness that surrounded them. In a flash, a cold hand acted on its accord leaving the sticky rim of the old washbasin before frantically summoning the magic vial high. One desperate sniff followed by another were enough to remove the dark veil that shrouded his mind and heart before indulging him in an ecstasy of serene blue. With peace restored at last, Jayden leaned his burdened shoulders against the door behind and slide down smoothly to rest on the dirty tiles.

Blake has just finished the brief transmission when he noticed the FBI Agent's disappearance. At first, he shrugged the note and decided to wait for the cops to take over the "accident" scene before he head out to bring down their next suspect. However and a minute later, something was there in his mind nagging him to check where his temporary partner had gone off. Was it compassion toward a young cop who just shot his first deadly bullet, or the curiosity to see how was the arrogant kid licking his first emotional wound? He could not tell and cared less. Another minute dragged on idly and Blake realized that he could not deny himself something he wanted no matter what his personal drives were.

The hardened cop roamed the dimly-lit apartment casually calling his forced partner's name as he paced. When he reached the now closed bathroom door, he concluded that Jayden was inside; after all where else could he had gone. A bored double-knock followed by a shouted name was neglected and Blake hated waiting. He griped the rusty handle and pushed it down but he was surprised with the unexpected weight on the other side challenging his rough push. Before his mind could reason, he felt extra weight placed on the handle from the other side followed by a bloodshot eye peering ominously through the slightly adjourned door. Heavy air chilled for a dark moment.

Blake felt it but refused to admit it while his eyes held the narrowed reddened pair now with cautious stare. "What do you want?" The drained voice reached to snap him from his forced trance causing his reply to come too fast for his ears. "Move it kid! We have another suspect to catch." – Fake disinterest wrapped his tone protectively; after all he did not care about what was going on the other side of the splintered door. Much to his relief, the feeling was proven mutual as a resentful red glance shot toward him followed by a spited command, "Give me a minute!" Then, the door was shut with a loud thud that left Blake gritting his teeth till they were separated with a hissed curse, 'Fucking asshole!' At once, he retraced his steps back to the "legal" crime scene contemplating the hidden animosity that perked from behind the glossy red stares. He knew that the FBI agent did not exactly like him but those mad stares were a bit overboard.

Heaving deeply, Jayden mentally cursed the man on the other side of the shut door. He would have been spared travelling down this sinister path today only if the brute had acted a bit mature and restrained his abusive streak. To feed his fire more gasoline, the accompanied guilt was heightened with the purposelessness of the kill. Upon the ugly remainder, horror hovered over him again but this time he molded it into rage directed toward its original source; that mad dog of a cop. Yet and in the distance, a splash of cold water was tempting him with promises to put out the raging flames in his throbbing head, and he gave in the soothing temptation.

Blake was wondering how much time did it take Nathanial to hang all those crucifixes. Was it worth the trouble? 'Clearly not!' He concluded since they failed to deliver him from this cruel world in a less violent manner but rather with a bullet to the head. Usually, he was not much of a thinker but he preferred becoming one on occasions that required self-entertaining to pass the slow wait. As soon as it started though, his thoughtful trip reached an ending when two cops entered the apartment. He did not bother with a welcome and went down to business briefing the joiner officers about another "unfortunate incident".

Blake briefing was interrupted when Jayden came out passing by without even glance for acknowledgment. His eyes followed the silent man as he headed toward the door and exited the apartment. Irritated by the still-superior attitude of the kid who was sniffing on the bathroom floor a minute ago, he lashed at the two policemen in front, "Just take care of this shit!" He commanded ever sternly before he followed his partner for the long day.

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TBC


	2. Part I

**On my Watch**

**Part I**

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Jayden descended the singing stairs with relief earned thanks to his self-control that restrained his anger from lashing out at the bully who was enjoying bossing around the two young officers back in the stifling apartment. He continued down stairs while struggling to block out Blake's detested face from his mind eye. He had to, otherwise he was not sure he would not go back inside and give the bossy lieutenant a taste of his fist. To his fortune, he found his rage cool off with the numbing effect of the sorrowful rain that was still pouring. Adjusting the collar of his leather jacket, he gazed above solemnly wondering if the bereaved sky would claim another life tonight before carrying on the deadly mourning ritual again and again. 'Would that make her a killer?' He thought philosophically before whispering, "Not more of a killer than me anyway…" He smiled with the pitiful irony before his eyes were cast down to watch his splashing steps reaching to his ride.

A tired frown captured his face when the passenger door refused to oblige his need for shelter from the heavy downpour. He sighed with irritation as the thought of Blake's car abusing him and laughing at his wet face reflecting on the window glass; just like what her master would had done. "No wonder!" He mocked with childish irritation as he started analyzing the affinity between the dark car and her owner before the silly idea was cast aside. Blake was getting into him – that was for sure, but he needed the ride now. He glanced at the weary building contemplating going back inside while waiting for the older man to unlock his car. Immediately, he was held back with the reminder of his early anguish trail; after all the spilled blood did not dray yet and he definitely preferred the rainy smell over that metallic one.

Blake was leaning against the entrance frame with one arm resting on his head while enjoying the foolish act unfolding outside. He watched Jayden pacing back and forth along his car; shuddering every now and then with stinging cold. He wanted to see how far the stubborn kid would go before he sought cover from the hammering rain. He was willing to wait but he felt the fun peaking when a speeding car saluted the oblivious agent with a splash of muddy rain water. He chuckled vulgarly at the seething agent who surprisingly had his own thick dictionary of nasty words. Smiling with vengeful content, he pushed away from the wooden frame and started walking proudly toward the still thrashing young man.

"And I thought you enjoyed _dancing_ under the rain Norman." Blake announced with his ridiculing tone that never failed to award him the same spiteful stare that he was growing used to. "Just unlock the damn car!" Came the frustrated hiss from the other side with a shy plea. "We can't risk you catching a cold and start sneezing in my car, can we?" Blake dragged on the mockery but it was thrown back at him when Jayden spat sarcastically, "Don't worry! I won't stain your precious BMW leather-interior. I cross my heart!" – The oath was gestured with fake innocence. The older man would had stalled more just to enjoy the FBI agent's discomfort but he was not going to risk another speeding vehicle assaulting him as well – Karma was a bitch after all. With a forced laugh, he ended the teasing contest and worked the key to unlock the care before sitting behind the steering wheel. Gloved hands busy starting the engine, he glanced at the side but he was not surprised with how fast the shivering agent had gotten in. With a victorious snicker, he set the care in motion and drove away toward their next destination.

For Jayden, despite being at close proximity to that pathetic excuse for a cop it still felt nice to be spared the soaking wetness and the accompanied coldness; but that was about the limit of the bright side here. The ride was quite except for moments when reckless rain drops decided to challenge Blake's over-speeding car only to be squashed mercilessly on the windshield. He averted his eyes from the uneven battle taking place in front to watch rivulets of rain water sliding down the window in bitter defeat. For a moment, he lost his thoughts in the blurry glass that left him no choice but to relay on imagination to draw a murky picture of the damp buildings standing witness on the side of the road.

Through watery glass, Jayden spotted a blurry red flash but it vanished as fast as it appeared. "Damn it Carter! Your badge doesn't allow you to do whatever you want." He scolded with drained annoyance not bothering to look at the invincible driver. "Yeah…remind me to write myself a ticket for passing a red bitch." Blake replied with disinterested, he then heard the younger man whisper, "…and speeding," however, he ignored it in favor of the slippery road but not before cursing audibly, "Fucking scout boy!" Jayden dropped the conversation with a mental sigh, 'Just don't kill us before we find that psycho.'

Unknowingly, Blake obliged the unspoken appeal of his partner when the car reached its destination safely. He killed the engine laying his head lazily on the headrest in preparation for the long wait. A minute passed and Blake found his mind drifting back to Nathanial's death luring him to steal shy glances at the silenced man beside. He noticed the dark expression on the young agent's profile and the vacant gaze lost beyond the rainfall. The sight awarded him with a frown of alien concern that he immediately shrugged by averting his gaze to the other side; however, he could not resist. Sighing in surrender, he spoke his mind fast before his pride would tackle his sympathetic persona again, "Was it the first time?" He asked hesitantly.

Jayden was pulled back from his thoughtless drift by Blake's distant voice. He slowly turned his hollow gaze toward the other man before asking him tiredly to repeat what he just said, "Sorry?" This time he heard the man question, "Was it the first time you shot someone?" However, he wasn't exactly enthusiastic to answer or even retrace his thoughts back to the incident. "I don't want to talk about it." He cracked with a hint of accusation and tried to go back to continue his empty staring but Blake's voice kept him here. "You did what you had to do. Sure, something gets you the first time but you get used to it eventually." The experienced cop advised him in an unusually tender voice and he could not help admiring the compassionate gesture; still coming from the wrong person. Like a partner, Blake had tried to ease the guilt; which was a great breakthrough considering the rough approach he usually employed when dealing with emotions. Nevertheless, the idea of getting used to _killing_ was still horrifying. "Honestly, I don't want to get used to it." He announced bitterly before uneasy silence reclaimed the air.

Already regretting his foolish act of compassion, Blake found his gloved hand griping the wheel in frustration. He wished if the younger agent had lashed at him and gotten rid of whatever guilt roaming inside but he knew better; after all the kid was _unhealthily_ calm. It was only when he sensed the alert movement on his right that he looked back at his companion and joined his vigilant gaze to see Korda walk out with a cup in hand. "Looks like we have our guy." He announced before getting out of the car with his partner following behind.

Approaching the ignorant suspect, Blake noticed the young cop nervously reaching to his pocket; not once but twice. 'Getting the itchy fingers already…I will be damned if I let use your gun again.' He silently assured the fuddling agent while walking toward their second suspect. "Miroslav Korda?" He spoke and earned the bold man's attention. "Yeah..." Came the distrustful reply and he continued, "Lit. Carter Blake. I'd like to ask you few questions." The last part came as an order more than a request and he heard the unease man comply.

Blake thought Korda had agreed to answer their questions but a splash of steamy coffee to the face suggested otherwise. He groaned with the burning sensation that he tried to cool off with his gloved hands before feeling Jayden hovering motherly over him with evident confusion. His sharp instinct ignored the pain for a moment searching for his night pray that was running away now. With rough urgency, he shoved his partner away shouting, "Shit! Don't just stand there – He's gonna get away!" To his relief, the younger man overcame his hesitation and started chasing behind the blond thug.

When the older lieutenant shoved him and shouted his order he had actually done Jayden a favor and shattered the confusion caused by Korda's cheap trick. Before he knew it, he was running after the blond suspect barely avoiding screeching cars when he recklessly crossed the street. For a brief moment, his mind drifted back to Blake's raw face while keeping up the hunt through the crowded market place. "That must've hurt." He thought feeling the imaginative sting of hot pain before real pain assaulted him when Korda tackled his run with ice cubes that threw him roughly on his back forcing a muffled groan out of him. It took him a second before he was on his feet again chasing the blond criminal and passing as much invented obstacles as possible.

Jayden was lucky that Korda did not knock down the metal shelves, but he reconsidered how lucky he was when the feathery bird was battering against his face. "Bitch!" He cursed and shoved the innocent bird away without failing to notice Blake's bad influence on him; after all he was cursing a brainless creature out of annoyance. He came to a halt at the entrance of the poorly-lit meat cooler and instinctually pulled his gun out. He steadied his aim as best as he could with a heart still pounding urgently from the early tricky chase. With the deadly metal piece held in his soggy clutch, a foreboding feeling crawled up his aching back and he felt Nathanial's restless soul roaming the chilly compartment that he was now rethinking walking in. Ignoring his guilty conscience with renewed resolve, he released his painfully trapped breath and walked in overlooking how burdening the gun felt in his grip.

His cautious steps grew reluctant as he ventured further into the deadly darkness. The cold silence provoked his edgy nerves with fear of predator eyes patiently awaiting an opening before pouncing on him. Hanging pieces of dead meat blocked his vision while assaulting his nostrils with the smell of clotted blood of the butchered animals. He found himself walking blindly glancing back each time an elusive presence sneaked behind his stiff shoulders. Panic was building up in his head while pushing useless air down his throat.

Jayden felt bizarre relief when he saw Korda attacking him with a meat hook swinging desperately to claim his gun – at least he was ridden of the freezing feeling of being stalked helplessly. The weapon was out of his stiff hold and hit the floor with resonating clatter that warned him of the disadvantage that he was at now. More metal swings sought him viciously and he evaded some but failed on couple of painful occasions where his side and face paid the price. Fed up with the cold offensive hook, he managed to kick it away from the desperate clutch before sending an angry fist ramming his opponent temple. The man swayed with stunning pain giving his enemy the chance to deliver more agonizing punishes while dangerously closing the gap between them. Enjoying his brief advantage over the bold, Jayden changed his offensive tactic and kneeled the man to the stomach causing him to bend over; however as soon as he did a bold head swung up smashing Jayden's jaw in the process and sending him stumble backward.

In that brief moment, Jayden felt too much pain being delivered to his nerve system. His jaw hurt with the unseen smack that caused him to bite his tongue and snap his neck back roughly. Through tearful eyes, he saw Korda staggering away still dizzy from using his skull to deliver that desperate strike. With one hand clutching his jaw in a hopeless move to sooth the triple ach, he strode madly toward the abandoned hook. Promising his rage the long-awaited release, he gritted his teeth and clutched the cold metal in both hands before bouncing at Korda to hammer him repeatedly till he kissed the bloody floor.

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TBC


	3. Part II

It was really difficult to produce this chapter since I was not sure where should I go with the story; plus I was busy fighting with some assholes at work and home.

Sure, you will find several grammatical mistakes but this is how far I can go in this department. So I apologize in advance. Yet, please tell me what you think of the logic of the interaction between our boys and their characterization. I need your opinion so I can figure out how I should proceed with the story.

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**On my Watch**

**Part II**

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While tracing the invisible footsteps of the night cat and mouse, Blake was grateful for the cool rain that was kind enough to sooth his burning face; yet soaking him damp. His mind drifted back to another, but more genuine, act of kindness that he was at its receiving end. He recalled the young agent crouching beside him with a caring hand on his shoulder. He pictured the look of concern on the man's face that shifted to one of determination when he urged him to chase after their target. "Stupid kid!" He whispered before considering the origin of this comment. Was it because how nice Jayden was acting toward someone who, obviously, did not welcome him, or because he turned his back on a street criminal? He did not bother to determine the cause and neglected the passing thought.

After some guessing and help from the inhabitants of the covered market who were yet to forget the chaos that left wreckage in its wake, Blake reached the meat cooler. Heavy thuds interrupted only by breathless curses advised him to pull his gun from its holster, and he did. The veteran cop concluded that one was beating the shit out of the other and his money was on the tough thug. With a sly smile, he walked in but was surprised to find the weaker-looking man beating the stronger-looking one with a meat hook – his early smile remained but changed into an amused one. As he approached the rampant man while tucking his gun back, he noticed Jayden spiting what looked like blood before he cursed again and carried on with his task. 'Like some bad-ass cop, are we?' He mentally taunted.

Somewhere on the boarders of his absent mind, Jayden could hear approaching footsteps but he ignored them since he was delivering the beating of his life to the man beneath who had stopped groaning long ago. He could had reasoned that he was being approached by another enemy but logic was long kicked out in favor of primitive rage. "It seems you're on a roll today! Can't have enough after the first taste?" He heard the sick joke being delivered with the familiar sick sneer. It was then that the frenzy agent spared his motionless victim the insensible strikes and looked toward the teaser. Agonizingly, a fresh wound had just been pried open.

For Jayden, the way Blake was casually mocking a man's death and praising human brutality made him sick of the man and himself. At that moment, the senior cop was a tempting devil celebrating the corruption of another human soul with the deadly sin of wrath. As if one mortal sin was not enough to curse a soul for all eternity, that damned devil was now tossing him into abyssal despair. Feeling impending doom upon him, he gritted his teeth with bitter loath directed at the human demon and shouted hoarsely, "Shut up Blake!" – The metal hook was pointing threateningly with the resolve of a repentant craving forgiveness.

Blake was usually the one threatening and pointing things at others but now a typically arrogant FBI kid was trying to steal his role - he hated this; very much actually. The early fun turned ashen by blazing madness that, yet, was not allowed to melt his icy façade. Locking dark eyes with a pair of frenetic ones, he approached Jayden calmly but menacingly, closing the distance between them. He stopped, briefly eyeing the shaky man for a moment before casting a board glance at the metal bar. He acted fast and swift; at least for the other man to react in time.

One quick blink cost Jayden dearly when he felt his wrist twist painfully as the rough cop yanked the hook out of his hold before giving him a mild punch to the nose that sent him stumbling backward. It was not the fact that Blake had just punched him that caused blood to rush up his head with rage riding the red tide. In fact, it was the way the bullying man approached him unthreatened and casually took his weapon like a parent taking away a dangerous toy from a child. That damn Blake did not even acknowledge his manhood and refrained from delivering a full punch. His vision blurred red when he saw his assailant who was not even threatened looking away at the unconscious suspect. Mindlessly, he charged at the man in black.

Blake was observing Jayden's handiwork trying to calm his temper since he did not feel like beating the young man; not this evening at least. He succeeded partially when he threw the meat hook away trying to decline the invitation to crack Jayden's head open with it; after all it could be considered a "weapon of assault". However, the arrogant FBI agent did not support the anger management approach when he decided to ram him trying to tackle them both to the floor with his feather-like weight. 'He could use the lesson.' Blake decided before hammering Jayden's back with his elbow and then shoving him against the steel counter behind to start a torrent of hard sweet punches.

It was when Jayden stopped fighting back but, uselessly, kept trying to shield himself from the brute attack that Blake decided to stop. He preferred to continue his lesson later when his student was more 'attentive' to understand why one should not cross Let. Carter Blake. Besides, it would be easier to explain why Jayden had dark and bloody makeup if he was still conscious more than if the profiler and Korda were both unconscious. With that, he released his grip on the younger man's shirt and walked away. In the background, he could hear the beaten man slide down the counter before hitting the hard ground to rest there. Nevertheless, the older cop ignored him while approaching the still motionless Korda; cold handcuffs making their way to capture equally cold wrists.

Blake was done restraining the oblivious suspect when he noticed an out-of-place vial resting right from where he was crouching. Curious, he reached to the item, lifted it up and stood to examine it closely under the flickering light. Suspiciously, there was not a nametag or a label to provide a description of the tube content or indicate its source. Also, the sky-blue color of the powder did not give him much of a lead so he decided to use his smell sense to acquaint himself with the chemical inside. However, he was interrupted by a muffled call of his name coming from the man he had beaten minutes ago. He turned to Jayden and found him on his knees bent with abdominal pain that one hand was easing while another was stretching shakily in front. "Give it back!" He heard the frantic plea which he did not like its implication, neither that of the dreadful look that the agent was fixing on the item in question. "Mind telling me what's this?" Came the quiz question that Blake already doubted its yet-to-be-given answer.

'Shit! Shit!' His mind cried and continued its breathless chanting, 'Not Blake! Not now!' He could not afford the scandal and let the abusive lieutenant discover his dark little secret. Jayden tried to sound as calm as he could but wild anxiety failed the act. "It's Luminol. Give it back now!" He lied and hoped Blake would buy the clear bluff. "Do all _hot-shot F.B.I. agents_ carry their Luminol? I thought that was the work of the forensics people." Blake seemed suspicious but at least he was buying it so the desperate addict carried on with the lie. "Some of us do." He replied and hoped that Blake would now return his precious drug. However, he realized he was wrong when the older cop sarcastically questioned, "I thought Luminol is white. Don't tell me you're experimenting with the chemical while the shit is still inside? ...and I thought you smarter than this…_college-boy." _He froze upon the comment and failed to notice the towering cop crouching and locking dark eyes with his reddening ones.

Hardly drawing air in, Jayden was stunned back to shameful reality when Blake spoke calmly but venomously, "I am a street cop Norman not some naïve desk jockey." He was waving the vial between their faces to emphasis the point. Upon seeing the seducing drug through a blurry shade, the distressed man reached with a trembling hand and tried to snatch the hostage drug – the older man had already discovered his destructive habit but at least he would deny him the luxury of 'concrete evidence'. Unfortunately, firm but swift was Blake's clutch when it closed around the fragile object shattering the glass tube along with his last hope for physical and mental relief. Through the haze of his drug-craving fit, he lowered his head and summoned little strength left to try and pry open the lieutenant's firm fist. It only required the older cop one rough slap to shatter the last of his crumpling will and send him lying on the floor before most-welcomed darkness obliged him wholeheartedly.

Being alone in a dark cooler isolated from the world outside while witnessing a fall from grace was something foreboding for Blake. Who would had thought that a classy-looking FBI agent, who was chosen of all to join such hot investigation, was nothing more than an addict yearning for pitiable sniff every time his nerves let him down. It reminded the older man of the curse of mankind relatively dignified existence that, in a glimpse, could become an inferior one; even to that of animals. Was he even immune to the curse? Sure he was not a saint who renounced cheap pleasures and relinquished human desires, but drugs were something different. As a veteran cop, he witnessed addicts giving up their money, career, family and the last shred of their dignity for this deadly siren. He came across many who gave up their bodies and even those of their little boys and girls for a dealer's pleasure in exchange for one sniff.

Sighing with surrender, he kneeled beside the motionless body checking his vitals; just in case his heart was silenced with the shock of losing his precious powder. With Jayden relatively fine, Blake placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and started shaking him up back to consciousness. With each futile shake and a call of name that fell on distant ears, the lieutenant's patience was loosing credit to his usual ill-tempered nature. The lack of response promoted him to shout Jayden's name and roughly jerk him repeatedly but to no avail. Blake stood up clutching his fist with frustrated anger that was denied release but only for a while. With disgusted and irritated kick to the rib, Blake rolled his oblivious partner on the back hissing, "Wake up, Druggi!"

Giving up on the sleeping agent, Blake shifted attention to the comatose suspect. "…as if one to drag wasn't enough!" He mocked in defeat. Weight-wise, it was relatively easier to drag Jayden's limb body instead of Korda's bulky one. Plus and once Jayden was awake, he could help him carry their suspect to the car since the poor thug would be out of commission for a long while. Yet, he was not going to sit and wait while the spoiled brat took his time to wake up. If Jayden wanted to be a sleeping beauty, Blake was willing to give him a dragon kiss that, sadly, would not bring him to the fluffy reality of a fairy tale but to a harsh one of addiction that he ensnared himself in long ago.

Blake kept wondering why he did not call for help instead of dragging the younger man throughout the covered market. Maybe he was not in a mood to explain something as complicate as the fact that their FBI profiler was "using", or could it be that he was trying to cover up for a partner? He did not know. 'Shit!' He cursed inwardly each time some shoppers eyed him warily as if he was some kidnaper, before spitting, "I am a cop!" Usually, he would flash his badge but both arms were busy encircling his partner chest while propping him up with his own. 'I'm sure I saw it somewhere.' He wondered trying to remember the location of the bathrooms he came across earlier. Hell could freeze over before he would ask for directions like a father taking his kid for an urgent piss during some family-shopping tour.

Blake's patience was wearing thin and he was about to drop the unconscious agent and kick the shit out of him till he was awake, instead of giving him the privilege of a, relatively, civilized splash of water. Luckily, he did not need to resolve to dear violence as the sought bathroom came in view not far away from where he was wondering. Needless to say, he renewed dragging his partner but not before roughly pulling him up to adjust his hold; an action that forced half moan from the manhandled agent who was not so numbed when it came to feeling the vice grip bruising his scrawny chest. "Quit your bitchy whining and help me carry your ass." He hissed annoyed but, of course, there was no reply from the addressee – he was not waiting for any to begin with.

Shoulder first, Blake rammed the bathrooms door open. Actually, he did not mind acting civilized and opening it with either hand only if both were not busy with a sleeping beauty to carry; not so beautifully. Better yet, he could had used Jayden's head to throw the door open just for the sake of punishing him but that would had made his effort for nothing; after all he was bringing him here to wake him up not to extend his beauty-sleep. Either way, the entry method did not matter anymore since they were already inside in front of the white wash basin.

Jayden was waking up gradually but he was still disoriented and overwhelmed by sheer sickness. He registered being dragged through muffled noises but only could see mingling waves of blackness that, awkwardly, shifted to eye-burning spotlights from time to time. He sensed his feet sweeping the floor heavily but they were still too weak to support his drained body. A strong hold encircled his ribcage, and caused him to moan when it briefly intensified. There was a rough bang before bright whiteness assaulted his unfocused eyes; but that was mild discomfort compared to having his back arched painfully against a cold rim before his head was shoved backward.

Blake could not help smiling slyly as he turned the water on and watched Jayden's eyes become alert by the sudden torrent pouring down his face. He enjoyed watching the restrained man coughing and thrashing for a release that he kept denying him with his firm hold. Once his revenge meter reached a satisfactory level and after noticing that Jayden's aimless thrashing turned into conscious resistance against the arms that held him down, Blake released him. He winced with mocking empathy when Jayden hit his forehead against the metal faucet in his desperate escape of the cold water; before sliding off and falling on four. With lowly amusement, he watched the young man struggling for breath before folding his arms and leaning against the wall to enjoy the show.

Ignorant of his surrounding, Jayden focused on leashing the wild gasps that threatened to tear his lungs apart. He closed his eyes to focus on the task at hand and he was relieved when his desperate inhales turned into rhythmical ones. He sat leaning his sore head backward and propping his arms behind to take on his weight while his muscles relaxed with the ecstasy of oxygen. For a moment, lazy eyes were lost in the white ceiling above while heavy ears were hypnotized with the melody of deep inhales and relieving exhales. Once oxygen dissolved the fog shrouding his brain, fleeting amnesia cleared, crowning his consciousness with the terrible truth. Fragmented memories of early events called one another to form the full picture in his mind – a gloomy one with grinning Blake holding a Triptocine vile in an act of divine judgment. Upon the realization, early trance was devastated with striking dread, throwing back his heart in breathless turmoil.

Eyes wide open, Jayden sat up straight only to have chilling electricity run down his spine upon seeing Blake in front. Time froze rendering his body stiffly mummified under the blank, yet deep, gaze of the man who unearthed his dark secret from its hidden burial. Hopelessness engulfed his existence and his tense posture slumped with inevitable surrender that cast his shamefully gaze downward. He was doomed with no redemption to follow even if he tried to beg the lieutenant to keep his dirty secret a secret – how could it be possible anyway if all that Blake wanted from the start was to remove him from the investigation and send him back where he came. A bitter man was given a golden chance to pluck an arrogant thorn from his side and, reasonably, he was not going to miss it. Tense fingers entangled in fists of helplessness while life-devoid eyes observed them absentmindedly.

Truth to be told, Blake was expecting Jayden to lash at him for roughly awakening him in such manner. His early anger at the man cooled upon seeing him setting in shame like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He started feeling annoyed with the utter display of weakness coming from the man across. Now, Jayden was not only weak in front of his enslaving drug but in front of him as well – caught up in a cycle of never-ending weakness sustained by the curse of addiction. Frightening as it is, the fact that a respected and educated man such as Jayden had sunk this deep, while keeping a stable profession, still reminded Blake of the wicked spirit of deception lurking in the shadow of human interaction.

The tough street cop convinced himself that bulling people was his hoppy but not breaking them like this. Even if he was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch; which he is not, breaking an already broken stoner was no fun since, obviously, he did not become one if he was still worth breaking. He was sure that the hotshot FBI agent would give up the investigation if he blackmailed him but the image across killed his interest in such endeavor. But was it only this logic that settled his early anger or some unseen empathy toward a man who just had his pride shattered in front of an enemy? Could it be part of his reason to lose interest in the scandalous discovery? Sure, he was human after all not some horny devil who enjoyed cursing people. Sighing with faked boredom, he pushed himself away from the wall and turned walking toward the door. Not as if he was expecting footsteps to follow, he glanced backward impatiently and hissed with renewed anger, "Get your ass off! I'm not carrying Korda alone, got it!"

Jayden snapped his head in utter disbelieve. Of all scenarios he drew, he did not foresee Blake dropping the subject without bulling him to madness. Actually, 'bulling' was an understatement. He was sure that the aggressive lieutenant would had announced his addiction to everyone just to humiliate him before removing him from the Origami Killer's case. If not, he would had at least blackmailed him and forced him off the case silently. Was Blake going to pretend that nothing had happened and carry on with the investigation along with an addict profiler? Although it was hard to believe, confused relief washed over him and he felt hope had not abandoned him entirely.

It was silent gratefulness that drove him to childishly obey when Blake's shouted impatiently, "Com'on!" Jayden stood up in haste that caused him to wonder whether Blake had ill intentions behind this nice gesture of support. Could it be that the sly man is trying to bind him in fear with an unspoken blackmail? Was Blake merely toying with him and trying to imprison him with heavy shackles of fear? Anger at self and the older man ignited within but it cooled down once a more reasonable thought presented itself. Blake was a straightforward man; the type who charges head on without deep or complicated strategy. Mind games and psychological manipulation was beyond a man with such flammable temper. Most likely, Blake lacked the evidence and that was the reason behind his dumping of the whole incident, but at least he would had teased. Plus, was not Blake the one who deliberately destroyed this evidence? Everything was pointing out toward one conclusion: Blake was acting nice which was even beyond implausible.

It was confusing and Jayden hate confusion more than anything so he decided to get it over with. He found himself chasing after the older man who had already exited the bathroom. "Blake!" He shouted and was rewarded with inpatient acknowledgment from the man ahead who was accommodating enough to stop and look over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Words left his mouth too quickly but there was no reply and not even a change in the addressee's facial expression which prompted Jayden to pursue the matter even further. "Aren't you going to ruin me and get me off your precious case?" He shouted throwing his hands in frustration resulting from bitter uncertainty. "Do you want me to?" Came the frozen statement before Blake turned to face him fully and continued, "If you do, I'll be happy to oblige you and call some snoopy paparazzi."

Blake's dark and cold expression masked a truth that was hidden deep even from him. It irritated him not to be able to pin point his motivation and Jayden was making it worse with his girly demand for emotional disclosure. "No, but it just not like you to…" He did not wait to hear Jayden's flimsy justification and cut him off hissing with irritation, "And what's it exactly like me? You think you know everything, don't ya'?" He did not give him a chance to answer but closed the distance between them to, mockingly, pat the younger man on the check as he continued, "Don't worry sweetheart, I am no snitch. So be a good boy and continue sniffing like the junkie you are. I don't care, and I doubt that the Origami Killer will spare you his spotlight; not for a sec." With a sneer, he walked away from the speechless man but looked behind to add, "But don't sniff your shit in front of me cuz next time you pass out like some Disney princess…you won't be waking up so nicely," before he continued walking away.

Jayden thought that confronting Blake would had elevated the cloud of confusion that ruled over his mind but it served only to darken it further. The lieutenant's lack of interest was surprising but did he really know the man to foresee his reactions? Clearly, he was stereotyping him based on their earlier shallow interactions. He was disgusted with this alien judgmental trait that he used to believe he was above it thanks to his vast knowledge in human psyche. 'Judgmental addict…I wonder where it puts me!' He sadly smiled with the irony of his situation. It would had been less humiliating if Blake decided to make a public announcement down the station disclosing his addictive habit. He wished so since the burden of being judgmental and frail addict was unbearable – it would not had shattered something as redeemable as people respect but his own self-respect. Blankly and for the lack of a better thing to do, his feet followed the older man in silent defeat brought down by a revelation of his own inferiority.

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TBC


	4. Part III

I spent some time polishing my writing skills by reading about, grammar, style, punctuation, word-choice and stuff like that. I hope you can feel it in this chapter.

One more thing, leave me a note if you are interested in beta-reading this fic.

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**On my Watch**

**Part III**

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Lying idly on his bed, Jayden could have sworn that his fancy hotel room ceiling had some vendetta against him. Half-lidded eyes observed the lifeless structure as it played snapshots of the day shameful events. Earlier, he cowered allowing Blake to have his way with Mars' psychiatrist, before dragging him obediently to hunt a man he was willing to steak his life on his innocence. His post-dose epiphany declared him guilty of another crime of human weakness that he himself was its victim. As if it wasn't enough to back off from Blake's stampede, he surrendered to this withdrawal fit that threw him back in the arms of his poisonous mistress. _And I thought Blake has problem with self-control, _came the shameful acknowledgement of this personal limitation.

Jayden's recent lack of self-control reminded him of Blake's early display of this skill back in the covered market. Playing the early events in the clinic but from a different angle, Jayden wondered whether Blake really lacked self-control or he just established this aggressive approach after losing faith in lawful methods taught to naïve academy trainees. Being a veteran street cop, Blake knew well his way around those dark alleys and managed to survive their malice till now. Jayden doubted that his own fantasy book of law and justice would have ever prepared him to face whatever lurked beyond the mask of a modern, civilized city. Few punches delivered to another money-sucking leech had saved them the trouble of going through routine process and wasting precious sand grains from Shaun's hourglass. "Fight fire with fire . . . I could learn a thing or two from Blake!" he chuckled with the irony as he pushed himself up to sit.

As soon as he did, Jayden regretted the sudden move that rocked his light head with mad throbs of a junkie's hangover. With both hands pressing his head to still those hammering pounds, he stood and walked to the bathroom in search of his trusted painkillers that were always there to ease the soreness. They were waiting faithfully for him—on the washbasin counter—ready to banish the pain away. They did as soon as he took a couple of them and followed it with a splash of cold water to his pale face. With the feeling of refreshment being relatively restored, he averted his face from the dead one reflected on the wide mirror before exiting the bathroom.

At the bathroom doorway, Jayden paused calculating his next move. There was the room door, encouraging him to seek Mad Jack in hope to trace the car back to the Origami Killer and redeem himself in the process. On the other side, there was his bed tempting him to throw his jaded body on it and drift away from the traceless investigation into deep slumber. Lost in the welcoming sight of the soft bed, he wondered what would it be like to fall into a dreamless sleep and never wake up until all his problems were solved. The thought triggered a childish nostalgia that was too innocent to dismiss, however he wasn't a carefree child, not anymore. Taken by bitterness, his gaze wondered shyly around the bottle of drink resting on the TV stand to his right. Promises to sooth his mind and elevate the dark cloud that ruled his sky almost seduced him to relinquish the clarity of mind he just restored, but the fresh memory of his late drug-lust repulsed him.

It did not take Jayden much time to decide that he had to keep chasing the shadow of the killer that, likely, once lingered in Mad Jack's junkyard. Face to face with the room door, his fear of confronting a suspect considered extremely dangerous cracked his resolve_. I should call Blake and have him go with me. It's safer with a partner._ Was it cowardice or caution that tried to push him to seek the older cop's company? On the light of early events, Jayden admitted the first, feeling disgust with himself as he tried to mask his fear with professional rationale. _As if Blake is going to agree anyway, _he found it easier to go alone knowing that Blake wouldn't avert his hunting eyes from Ethan and waste time chasing a slim lead. The company of Triptocine would also ease him in taking the risk that every patrol cop was accustomed to as part of work everyday routine. Weakened by the temptation, he retreated to the bedside and snatched his drug from the floor before hastily hiding it away from his reasonable self. With his drug safe in his pocket, he exited the room determined to prove his worth as a field agent.

It was the second dangerous encounter for the day that Jayden was lucky enough to walk away from alive after his reckless dance with Death. Outside the Blue Lagoon, he sat in his rented car; cell phone abandoned on the passenger seat after its second call for the day to report another murder. Seething with rage upon loosing the only lead he had, he grabbed the steering wheel in a lethal clutch, ready to snap it if it were less fortified. When his tense grip did nothing to vent out his rage, he started a rhythmic banging of his head that gave him just enough physical pain to focus on instead of the psychological one.

After steel jaws of a man-made beast almost crunched him, and following being beaten and tossed around by Mad Jack, Jayden escaped early demise thanks to sheer luck that averted the scythe of death from reaping him and got his enemy instead. Even with the junkyard dweller gone, he was still frozen with fear for dear sanity that this ugly near-death experience threatened to tear asunder. He remembered how his legs failed to sustain him and how the sadistic laughter kept resonating in his horror-stricken mind only to get overridden again and again by a death cry—a screeching scream that ran him through viciously.

Back among the livings, Jayden left the bloody junkyard but not before staining it with his vomit upon seeing what was left of the tattooed brute. Throughout the walk to the highway, he kept looking over his shoulders whenever Jack's dead laugh terrorized his fragile sense of safety. With the ghost of the recently dead man on his heels, he wanted to run as fast as he could but he couldn't risk overloading his burning lungs and faint in the middle of nowhere.

After he was blessed with a taxi to shelter him from the hunting phantom in the distance, Jayden finally found a safe haven in the hotel room. He rushed to the bathroom to clean off and change his clothes that had turned muddy earlier when Neville decided to sweep the junkyard floor with him before he was swept himself to a mere bloody stain. Emerging clean and neat helped him construct an inner lie to convince him that it was over with the dangerous part, but the lie came crashing down few hours later.

Paco was silenced only minutes before Jayden arrived to be greeted by the Origami Killer. The shrouded man slipped away like quicksilver only because his opponent was too weak to take him on in a fist fight. Actually, Jayden was lucky to survive an encounter with the bulky killer, yet luck didn't have anything to do with it. To further his humiliation, the elusive killer did not bother getting rid of him and decided that he was not even a threat. A very cautious killer just turned his back on him walking away; not bothering to run off in fear of capture. Was he that worthless? "Apparently, yes!" he snapped throwing his hot head backward to rest on the head pad.

Jayden felt trapped in the humid car that failed to shield his aching head from the shrilling noises ragging in the Blue Lagoon. No matter how much time he had spent inside or how more time the police would be wasting once they arrived, Paco's death marked another dead end in the path of this investigation. There were no more leads that he could pick up and start over; not even among what he'd uncovered in Paco's private office. He wanted out of this cramped space but the heavy rain pouring down the vehicle convinced him otherwise. He needed to relax and think of a way to get back on the killers' heels but his mind was shut down, unable to suggest a proper course of action; not even a next move. All the stress building up for the last few hours had finally caught up with his fragile psyche advising him to get a break. However, time was a luxury that Shaun didn't had, so he needed to get a handle on things if he wanted to save the kid's life and deny the Origami Killer his ninth victim.

Strange how his instinct kicked in, taking over his baffled motor system to retrieve Triptocine from his pocket. It was only when his wild eyes glanced the familiar blue in his trembling hand; glittering under the equally blue neon light of the nightclub sign, that he realized how entangled he'd become in this web. It scared him to have his own body conspiring against him with this toxic potion and seducing him to indulge further in his addiction—just like it did back in Jackson's garage. He just got his ego scared again tonight; not by a masked killer this time but his own frailty.

In retaliation to this self-betrayal, Jayden threw the door open and half-stepped outside into the soaking rain; arm stretching above ready to banish the treacherous vile into the rainwater. Yet, the heavy downpour hitting the pavement echoed distant cries of help that Shaun kept emitting to whoever was willing to hear. Halting his arm mid-throw, he reassessed his priorities at this stage. Sure, his drug-craving habit needed addressing before it would render him dead but he still got more time than the drowning kid. Whether he liked it or not, Tripto gave him an edge that had kept him in the game this far. Moreover and devious as he was, the Origami Killer required all his focus if he to apprehend him before another sacrifice was mad to rainwater. He could not spare an ounce of strength battling addiction withdrawal where it wasn't due. After he saved Shaun and locked up his kidnapper, he would go on-leave, go to rehab or even seclude himself in some faraway Tibetan temple to work out his issues.

Calmed down whether due to the cooling effect of the rainwater or the feel of his trusted medicine still in his hand, Jayden retreated inside the car. Being exhausted from both the physical and the mental fights, he tried to relax in the cushioned seat savoring the conflict resolution. It didn't matter who was the victor as long as the fight was over allowing him to preserve his energy for a more productive cause. With the dust settling down, he could celebrate clarity of mind with a tribute of its own kind. _Just a little to relax, _he justified before inhaling what he convinced to be the last does before his post-investigation resolution to quit the deadly habit.

Although the rain had ceased sometime in midnight, it still craved for torturing the city inhabitants with chilly drizzles; upsetting what could've' been a beautiful morning. Sheltered from the cold autumn breeze, Jayden felt a bit warmer while crossing the police station parking lot. It occurred to him that he was early, even than a post-night officer rushing to handover a heavy shift. However, he was proven wrong when a patrol car startled him with the piercing sound of its siren and the flashing of its mismatched lightbar. Apparently, some tough cop decided to pick on him; which was not surprising considering how negatively popular he was in this particular precinct. "Sorry I startled you, pal!" came the insincere apology that the FBI agent didn't like, choosing to ignore it in favor of his walk to the entrance. True, he was startled to death but it was not as frightening as to be awakened by its sound after dozing-off in his new car outside the Blue Lagoon. Regardless, he was not going to show that to the bullies around here who were dying to make him snivel.

Inside the station, it was hectic as ever; which promised a merciless day ahead that wouldn't spare him the extra headache and add to the existing one of sleep-deprivation. Ignoring the curious stares that targeted his multi-bruises, Jayden crossed the tired station to his humble office. Once he was inside, he didn't waste time setting on the worn chair and pulling ARI from its confinement. Under the morning sunray, the glasses never looked so . . . precious! He knew that if he had a chance of catching the killer only ARI would deliver it on a silver platter. But what if it to fail him? He didn't want to think negatively at this critical point but the fear of returning empty-handed from this ARI ride still wrapped his mind as he wore the black glasses and journeyed into ARI's artificial world.

Furious, Blake was typing his update report of the ongoing investigation. Earlier the day, he went into Parry's office trying to convince him to relax and give him time since he'd finally uncovered the Origami Killer's identity. Yet, the other refused to listen unless Blake was confident enough to document it. He was certain that Ethan Mars was their man since his own psychiatrist—the professional—seemed to suspect him of being the killer. Moreover, nobody knew a man better than his wife, and Mars' wife had already conveyed her suspicion of her unbalanced husband. With the testimony of both his psychiatrist and wife, and since he chose to be on the run, Ethan Mars had already dug his own grave. As for tangible evidence, once he got his hands on Mars, he would get a warrant to search his place where evidence of his murders was bound to be found. It always went like this in homicides committed by psycho killers who were more focused on getting a next victim than cleaning off the blood of the previous one.

Blake didn't care what Jayden believed or what he said about Mars' psychological profile not matching that of the killer. How could he draw one to begin with if the guy was psychologically disturbed? For him, the younger agent was lacking the sixth sense that he would had acquired if he didn't spent his time burying his head in fancy text books or getting high every time he didn't get his way. With the conclusion of his investigation report, he printed it out before heading towards Parry's office. He could go back to doing real police work and continue hunting Mars once he'd submitted his report to Parry—a report that would only give the bragging captain material for another "brag-conference".

On the opposite side of the station, Jayden was waking up after a short nap induced by stress and fatigue that got him after spending all morning running around in circles inside ARI. He didn't intend to waste a minute napping but it happened as soon as his mind shut down with the inability to analysis, comprehend or even stay on board of his aimless train of thought. One minute, he was leaning forward, closing his eyes in an effort to relax and clear his head. Another, he was waking up startled from deep within, as if a voice had called upon his resolve to tighten up again; giving him energy boost in process. Dusk was upon him, marking the beginning of what would be the last night of Shaun's young life if all rescue efforts were to fail. Determined, he grabbed a bottle of water and emptied its content on his face before going back to examine the silent clues within ARI.

With Perry's ego pampered and polished to shine above his own, Blake was ready to pluck the last thorn in his side: Jayden of the FBI. Perry had smelled relief from the lieutenant convicting report that he authorized him to get rid of the FBI nuisance and tell him that his services weren't required anymore. Of course, Blake was more than happy to run this errand and kick out the annoying kid once and for all. Actually, he was set off to achieve the task as soon as he exited the captain's office. _He is too emo for our dirty work. He should've been kept in a shell in DC, _he justified.

Upon the door, Blake paused listening to Jayden ranting about another dead end that left him clueless. _Talking to yourself already . . . save the kid's thrashing for later!_ He knew he had to go easy on the distressed kid if he didn't want to walk in later and find him hanging from the ceiling. But how could he tell him that he is useless without scarring his young ego? He'd never been comfortable acting compassionate towards strangers; not to mention those he despised. _For a starter, no shouting_, _and keep the smugness at bay, _he made up his mind.

Leisurely, Blake pushed the door open pulling the distracted agent from whatever thought he was chasing. His early resolution went down the drain once he locked eyes with Jayden's rivaling pair. Habit was an unstoppable driving force and he failed to mask the taunting aura that his ego was emitting. "All packed up and ready to go?" came the rhetoric question; eager to add the other man's distress. "What are you talking about?" Jayden didn't expect the hit. "The investigation's over. We know who did it. We no longer need your services anymore, Norman. So you can ride your files all the way back to Washington. I'll be lying if I said I was going to miss you," finally, he got it out of his system. "The investigation isn't over. You have absolutely nothing on Mars!" the cornered agent retaliated but he was shut down as Blake spoke, "Mars is guilty. Case closed. Anyway, it's no concern of yours now. You're off the case. So pack up and fuck off." Jayden was desperate all right that he gave up on reason and resorted to plain insults, "Blake, you are an unbalanced psychopathic asshole!" but Blake chose to welcome them with sarcasm, "I'll take that as a compliment. Honestly, I don't give a shit what you think. I've found the Origami Killer. Everyone's happy, end of story! Have a nice trip back, Norman." He exited the office leaving the helpless agent to absorb the unexpected news.

Once the door was shut behind,Blake started evaluating his performance while walking back to his desk. Luckily, he avoided shouting and spared his throat, as well as Jayden's ears, the regular damage. Since Jayden remained relatively calm, Blake figured that he didn't inflame his boiling anger; which would have giving the younger an early stroke in the process. The smugness and sarcasm were a bit overboard but, considering the lack of practice, he did just fine. _He better be thankful. I just relieved him from the investigation before he lost it, _he concluded not regretting how things had unfolded back inside.

Not a minute had passed and Jayden was in front of Blake's desk, irrationally demanding him to lift his left wrist. The oblivious lieutenant had played along just to see what the babbling man was aiming at. "It's a pretty odd coincidence." He heard him saying; smelling an accusation in the air, and he reacted in no time, "What are you trying to say, Norman? What? Are you accusing me of being the Origami Killer?" he pressed daring the other to give "yes" for an answer. To his own good, Jayden denied it as he seemed to snap back to a more rational state of mind, "No . . . of course not." With his professional image intact, Blake counter-attacked the stunned agent, "You know what Norman? Sometimes I think you have absolutely no fucking idea of what you are talking about. Now get out of my face. Some of us have real work to do." He watched the other retreating in defeat—back to his office—after ridding his senses from whatever possessed them earlier and drove him to lash at Blake as he did.

Blake wondered whether Jayden had gotten too desperate that he wanted a scapegoat to fill in the Origami Killer's designated cell, however it wasn't like him. _Was he trying to get back at me? _he questioned bewildered. _Either he lost it already or he was getting extra high,_ he concluded before going back to his PC screen. Yet, he felt a mysterious bitterness intruding into his heart and throwing his mind in a blank reverie revolving around the glowing monitor in front. As soon as he drifted, he was back in the busy station just in time to catch a glimpse of Jayden passing by and exiting the station. For a curious moment, Blake wanted to chase after him but he dismissed the idea as soon as it came. _He's done here so likely he's off packing, _he reasoned and went back to his PC determined to get Perry his final draft.

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One more chapter to go but it will take longer. I promise it will be worth the wait though :3


	5. Part IV

**On my Watch**

**Part IV**

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The evening drew near and, with it, the fading sunrays were failing to penetrate the layers of a cloud upon another in hope to reach for the distressed city. Soon, another day would be laid to waste once dusk banished the reddening sun and heavy night descended to claim the drowning town as its own. Same as in any work place, everyone was rushing what he/she was doing, driven by the naïve hope that, soon, they would be free to go home to enjoy a long-awaited weekend – everyone but not Let. Carter Blake.

Long since he had finished his report on the closing investigation of the Origami Killer's case, Blake sat unable to stop thinking about the last time he saw Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI. Back then, something about the young man seemed odd and out of context. An aura of purpose and determination was wrapping his exit of the station and Blake doubted that it was summoned to handle a trivial task such as packing and leaving. His cop instinct told him that the man's last walk was towards something of a greater importance; great enough to render him detached from the hectic world of the police station that should've engulfed his senses.

Blake reasoned that the FBI profiler might be trying to contact his superior in DC in hope to turn the table on the local police and get his way with the investigation. However and considering the agent's early recklessness and solo attempts to pursue whatever leads he believed related to the Origami Killer, he might be up to another act of sheer recklessness. Truth to be told, the young cop seemed to stumble upon a murderer and a victim in both occasions he went on alone to investigate. In the junkyard, there was the hulking cop-murderer that, unbelievably, a green and spindly Norman Jayden managed to take down. While in the loud club, there was the mysteriously slaughtered owner of the Blue Lagoon and the black-clad man that vanished into darkness.

Blake knew that even if he dropped the idea now and left home, he won't be able to shake it off once alone trying to sleep – unfinished ideas have the habit to buzz around his head and disturb the silence of his bedroom. Determined to rid himself of the persistent thought, he requested the primary investigation reports of both incidents Jayden was involved in during his lone hunt for the Origami Killer. He went through them but got disappointed when he didn't find any statement for the younger cop. _It must've been too early to get one_, he rationalized and continued his thorough inspection of available findings.

Poor as they were, two details got his attention and convinced him that Jayden was truly after some valid leads. One was the fact that Jackson Neville was a suspect of stealing a car identified as the one the killer was driving when he kidnapped his late victim. Another was the existence of Madison Paige's fingerprints in Paco's office – the nosy reporter that was staying next door to Mars in the motel which he took refuge in before the unsuccessful police raid. He remembered how she hovered in the background when he was giving the order to commence the raid. He also found her appearance similar to that of the girl who entered the apartment in Marble Street and was believed to smuggle Mars out. Yet, he wasn't sure if she was the same person considering the distance that separated his car from the hooded female biker. Regardless, he found her stay at the same motel and her lingering in the Blue Lagoon, along with their profiler, beyond a coincidence.

On the light of this new discovery, one thought poked his mental nerve resulting in few unpleasant facial twitches. A junkie FBI agent along with a snooping reporter were chasing leads the he, the lieutenant in charge of the Origami Killer investigation, was ought to chase instead of typing some empty report. He felt insulted that two kids were, likely, doing some real police work while he was busy doing that of a clerk. True, they might be wide of the mark and off to realize some hollow theories. Nevertheless, they were working while he sat giving orders to patrols to find Ethan Mars. Well, he could keep hunting Mars but, in the meantime, he would check on the pipsqueak agent just to ensure that he is not getting credit for something he – a real cop – is more eligible for. Plus, he would be doing his work making sure that naïve hero-wannabes don't get hurt and run crying to real cops once troubles were onto them.

A stirring to his right warned him that his buddy Ash was ready to call it a day and go home. Immediately, he stood up, snatching both his jacket and coat before going over to his friend's desk. "You are not leaving yet," he announced to the puzzled cop who was perplexed enough only to reply, "Huh?" Seeing the look on his coworker's face, Blake rushed an explanation, "Listen, I need to check something. A gut feeling tells me the FBI brat is up to something and like hell I'm letting him stick his nose where it doesn't belong." Ash's only response to Blake's vague babbling was, "What are you talking about," but the lieutenant only added to his vagueness when he answered, "I am not sure, but I need you to locate him fast. Check his hotel. If he isn't there, notify every patrol to look for him and call me once you got a tip." The preoccupied lieutenant didn't wait for his colleague to accept the overtime assignment and exited the station quickly. Though ignorant of the reason behind the given task, Blake was sure Ash would do as he was told since they both share enough trust to operate on without requiring reason to drive the act. Such code of trust was a natural outcome of a relation that bonded both men over the years of danger and life-risking in the police force.

Above the waste crusher, there he stood ears deaf to the roaring sky but not to the echoing cries of a dying man at his last extremity – a man that he denied a helping hand to spare him a horrific death that could have claimed him, himself, if the events unfolded differently. Was it the early physical struggle or the current emotional one that left his chest too tight to allow most need oxygen into his raw lungs? He didn't know, and his awestricken mind didn't bother; same as when he slid down to sit on the platform after his legs refused to waste little resolve left standing. Unaware, behind him his arms tangled their selves with the metal bars of fear that they could meet the same fate as those of the man who was, not a minute ago, standing all tough and mighty.

Though groggy with the painful hyperventilation that, as rushed as it was, failed to get him any sustaining air, Jayden's hysterical eyes didn't blink to allow the bloodied blades out of sight. His mind was highjacked with horror that intensified every time lightening struck to decorate the spinning cruncher with glistening red. Amidst of the frenzy that entrapped his mind, a whisper of lost sense reached out for him and warned that it could be fatal to lose consciousness on this height. Acknowledging the anonymous forewarning, he tried to control his breathing but he failed miserably.

When his jaded will failed to rise to the occasion, Jayden separated his right arm from the reassuring embrace of the metal bars and sent it on a search quest to retrieve the chemical sedative. In drastic times, he always counted on the reasonless drug to take over his mind and lead him back to the shore of sanity. His vision was a blur and he knew that he couldn't relay on its offered illusions. Fortunately, the assuring sensation of the cold vile in his grip was real enough to have him act without the lost guidance of his eyes. A short sniff was followed by a couple of longer ones before relief surged through his veins, placing him back in control of his ravaged nerve system. Relaxed, his arm fell to his side, freeing the vile to roll away, before he drifted above a dreamy cloud of tranquility and peace.

His intoxicated clarity drew a smile of relief on his parted lips that already had ceased their feverish trembling. It whispered soothing promises of safety now that his victim's cries were hushed at last by the descending silence. From where he was on his soaring haven, his smile took a more sincere shade when he remembered how the kid had survived drowning slowly for days before he stumbled upon him in the warehouse. He felt a sense of fulfillment that he never experienced in a very long time – neither on a personal level nor on a professional one. Suddenly, he was proud of himself and how he succeeded in bringing down the Origami Killer, even if it was in a violent and gruesome manner. True, he refused to save a child killer but it was alright – primitive justice yet justice nevertheless. Triptocine assured him of the legitimacy of his newly acquired sense of justice, freeing him of the last shred of guilt evoked by Shelby's death cries. Liberated from the heavy shackles of remorse and doubt, he rested his head on the metal bar behind, locking vacant eyes with the dark clouds that tended to his bruised face with heavenly rain.

Earlier when he left the station in a blind rush, Blake didn't have a clear plan to follow and was only driven by the fact that he was falling behind a lesser man, or a stoner to be precise. Once he was in his car, he lost a minute bullying the stirring wheel while thinking of an alternative destination. According to Ash who just called him, Jayden wasn't in his hotel and never been there since early morning. With no idea of the whereabouts of the FBI profiler, the veteran cop hated to sit there doing nothing while waiting for further information. Leaving Jayden aside for now, he addressed his other target, Madison Paige, who was kind enough to bless him with a destination to target. Immediately, he turned the key, bringing life to the car engine, before he exited the police station parking lot.

Though he drove recklessly as usual, the anxious man found it hard to keep himself and others safe from his dashing car. It was in such time that Blake abused his authority and turned the flashing siren on to fend away other drivers with the forged urgency. As expected, civilized drivers acknowledged the fake plea and allowed him to dominate the road with his wild ride. Now that he had to worry less about controlling the speeding vehicle, he found himself wondering what Jayden was doing now. Not knowing where the other man was drove him mad since it left him with little control over the situation. Naturally for Blake, he mentally lashed at Ash for taking this long and leaving him in the dark like this.

Ash was spared the mental lashing when the rushed car came to a sudden stop at the motel parking space. Abandoning his car immediately, the lieutenant sought the motel receptionist for the room number of the unaware guest. Once obtained, he crossed the motel yard in long strides, swiftly stabbing unlucky water puddles that happened to be in his path. He made a quick work of climbing the stairs and reaching the reporter's room. Once confronted by the bold door, he bombarded it with thunderous knocks that, seconds later, lost their momentum to a single kick. Clearly, this kick proved more intimidating for the wooden panel as it flew open in a glimpse, allowing its performer a way into the dark room.

Blake felt frustration seething within him when he didn't find the snooping report who was, likely, snooping around somewhere else. He hated leaving empty handed so he allowed himself the freedom to look around the room which failed to catch his interest whatsoever. In the middle of the hushed place, he calculated his next move but found himself out of options except for looking for Ms. Paige in her permanent residence. For the lack of a better thing to do at the moment, he exited the room caring less to close its door since he was busy retrieving the ringing cell phone from his pocket. The thrill of the fight set his heart ablaze when the screen displayed the caller identity of his buddy at the station. He pushed the answer button while his legs made their way down the stairs and back to his car.

Luckily, the motel wasn't that far from the address Ash mentioned when he called earlier to tip him off about Jayden's location. His friend and partner informed him, enthusiastically, that the agent had called reporting the successful rescue of Shaun Mars who was found imprisoned somewhere in the old docks at Theodor Roosevelt Road. Though relieved that an innocent kid was saved from a psycho killer, the self-centered Blake cursed his luck for being late in catching up with Norman. Yet, it was better to arrive late than not to arrive at all and leave the smug FBI brat to enjoy unspoiled moment of glory and triumph. So he went there and there he was trying to remember the warehouse number but dropped the effort when he saw a lone car in front one of the buildings.

Blake didn't recognize the car as Norman's but being the only one there was enough to have it dominate his interest. This attraction lasted for a while between the two but it broke off when a smaller body caught his attention in the opposite side and caused him to abandon his vehicle at once. Upon approaching the wandering figure, he recognized the disoriented kid as Shaun Mars and rushed towards him. Lowering himself to the boy's level once he reached him, Blake asked genuinely, "Are you alright, kid?" His voice was tender, giving the paleness of the unfocused boy in front. The man was relieved greatly to hear the tired confirmation coming from the small lips that barely parted.

Assured of Shaun's wellbeing, Blake lifted the kid and carried him back to his car to shelter him from the heavy rain. He felt proud that he was able to act nice around the distressed boy considering his awful record in this particular department. "Stay here. The police are on their way," he addressed the occupant of the passenger seat who seemed to get the message clear. Just to feel less guilty about leaving the traumatized boy behind, he followed with an inquiry, "Are you going to be alright?" To his relief, he got an assuring node from the drained child.

Ready to leave and look for his fellow cop, Blake's attention was drawn back to Shaun when he spoke, "Where is the other cop? He went after that cop." Incoherent as he sounded, Blake pressed the kid to elaborate, "What are you talking about," and the boy answered slowly, "The cop who pulled me from the tank went chasing the one who took me from the park the other day." Feeling his patience wearying thin with the speaker's sluggish tone; which would have put him to sleep if the rain wasn't a constant alert, Blake decided to look for both cops – one real and the other imaginary . . . he presumed.

Ignorant of the layout of the old docks, Blake was fuming with irritation as he wondered around in circles. He tried calling Jayden's cell phone but there was no answer causing him to, gladly, curse the absent man to no end. Palms long since turned into itching fists, he continued his aimless search for both cops that Shaun spoke of earlier. Suddenly, his pointless exploration was interrupted by the smell of blood that, ominously, sneaked at him from under that of the soaking rain. Following his nose, he found himself approaching a noisy machinery that he later came to recognize as a metal crusher. When he came close enough to the rotating blades, the smell of blood intensified, assaulting his nostrils with a, familiarly, stinging odor. The flash of lightening that followed revealed the expected red gore, with it the fact that the chase Shaun spoke of had came to an ugly end.

For a fleeting moment, Blake stood there while his mind sustained all its current activities. No matter how many deaths he came upon, the fact that a human life had ended never got easy to accept since it always reminded him of his own mortality. Aside from Shaun and him, one of the other two had met a bloody end in this Godforsaken place. He didn't want to guess and wouldn't have dared to; not until he was reminded of the fact that the agent didn't answer his phone earlier. Instantly, he pulled his gun out, feeling threatened by the fact that the Origami Killer was, likely, still at large. He knew that he should give up the dangerous search and get back to the spared boy, just in case the killer still had him on mind.

Feet away from the murderous device, an out-of-place sparkling caught Blake's eye and, sensing its familiarity, he went to investigate. He didn't understand his action considering the dangerous circumstances that surrounded him, but he felt compelled to seek out the dimming glow. What was he hoping to find? He didn't know as he was acting on sheer impulse of hope. Kneeling besides the glass shards, Blake recognized the shattered object with the weird plug – the last relic of someone he knew. He figured that wherever this weird container was found, the agent was bound to be found as well. Involuntary, he dared a side glance at the roaring machine and, as if he was trying to imagine the early events that stained the rainy air with the metallic scent, he found himself looking above, tracing falling objects up to their source.

Aside from discarded junks falling down to be mauled beyond recognition, Blake didn't expect to see anything else; not alone someone atop of this deadly mechanism. He drew his eyebrows in confusion as he focused his sight on the still body above, which was positioned awkwardly on the metal platform. Further inspection, enlightened by a brief flash of lightning, confirmed that Norman was above the crusher, just inches away from a conveyer belt that was feeding the beast below all kind of objects. Unaware, Blake released a long-trapped breath – an action that sent waves of relief throughout his uptight nerve system. Feeling early threat had decimated, the ready gun eased in his grip and relaxation washed over his feature before a thin smile of relief claimed his lips.

Reflecting on the situation but from an angle of annoyance, Blake admitted that addicts never ceased to amaze him with their absurdity – the scene above was no exception. Here he was looking for a fellow cop thought to be dead but, apparently, he was just enjoying the bliss of another drug intake. _So much for a moment of glory,_ he mocked the transcending man.

It was hard to comprehend how a man capable of such heroic deed as saving the life of a child would abandon him in favor of a lowly pleasure. It was a paradox in human nature brought forth by something as irrational as addiction. Blake felt disgusted observing this act of self-degradation, so he decided to avenge himself, and Shaun alongside the road. Right away, he started climbing the adjacent ladder while determined to give the man drifting above a piece of his mind

Once at the top of the ladder, Blake halted when he noticed that Jayden wasn't moving, despite the loud rattle that his feet were causing. _No one in his right mind would relax on such height_, he thought but was a junkie considered right in the head? He pulled himself up on the platform to see Jayden half sprawled on its opposite twin. He couldn't see his face because his head was falling backward. The scene got him worrying that the younger man might be drifting away in an entirely different world. "Hey, Jayden," he called but no answer came from the drenched body across, so he extended a hand to shake him off as he shouted again, "Jayden!" Luckily, the young profiler responded, stirring before he dragged his head lazily from where it was cast behind.

It took Jayden's eyes a minute to focus before he spoke casually, "I told you Mars is not the Origami Killer." Early concern vanished when Blake felt his intelligence being insulted, causing him to snap, "And who is the killer," before he dragged on venomously, "You didn't let him get away, did you, Norman?" Though he knew the answer, Blake couldn't resist the teaser. Jayden reply answer struck Blake as plain weird, sending his early annoyance to the back of his mind, "Whoever owns 852, but I doubt that you can get a positive ID on him since he took a ride down there," he gestured cynically with his chin towards the crusher underneath – a dark expression over his face.

In front of an apathetic Jayden, Blake felt that something was out of place. _He must be extra high_, he justified with anger pushing itself back to the front of his mind. "How much did you sniff, Norman," he questioned the blessed man with a ridiculing tone underlining his disgust. He heard him answering shamelessly, "Just a little to bear the smell," and upon that, early irritation diminished.

Seeing the distant look on Norman's face, Blake was reminded of the incident in Nathanial's apartment. He took a moment eyeing the distant man blankly before a deep sigh found its way out. He found himself extending a hand towards the other man while ordering in a tired tone, "Com'n, Norman. We have to get down. I doubt you've any idea where you are but it is not safe, trust me." When neither verbal nor physical response came, the lieutenant realized that the agent was deaf to the words that he'd just spoken. Realizing his failure, he tried another approach to convince the inattentive man to abandon this high ground, "Shaun is down there alone since those lazy assholes didn't arrive yet." Sensing the success of this approach, he saw the ghost of a smile on the younger face that hinted a feeling akin to content.

Jayden seemed to rationalize gradually as he replied, "Alright, but I can climb down alone. I am not a complete stone, you know." Soon, he stood up slowly leaning on the metal bars for support. Presented by this scene in front, Blake didn't help but throw a comment, "Watch out if you don't want to follow the Origami Killer." Though sarcastic, the remark still underlined a sincere concern, but the tone suddenly shifted to that of an irritated mockery when the older man added, "Or would you rather follow your happy drug." Hearing the mention of the illegal material, Jayden's mind cleared in alert and he sent his eyes darting in their search for the vile of Tripticain that he'd just used. His futile search was stopped when the opposite man uttered with boredom, "Don't bother. It fell down there." Hearing that, the FBI agent finally understood the early sarcasm and couldn't help smiling indifferently.

The younger's goofy smile seemed to get on Blake's nerves, driving him to spit his next question, "What are you so happy about? Fantasizing about your next sniff?" Although the rough cop was evidently aggressive, Jayden didn't lose his smile, even if it wore a tired shade when he questioned back, "Why so angry, Carter?" The agent felt the lieutenant's eye twitch with rising anger, and he hoped that the older wouldn't lose it and get physical at this dangerous setting. To defuse the situation, he added in a playfully tone, "Com'n Carter, can't you humor a junkie!" Luckily, Blake anger lowered its level when Jayden heard him reply, "No, cause I hate them. They are worthless wusses who should roll over and die."

Heavy silence descended on the two in their standoff; each on his claimed platform. Gradually, Jayden shed off his early smile in favor of wearing a serious expression that was, later, supported by a serious tone. "You know Carter, I could be standing where you're now, I could be preaching the same preach, but would that make any different?" He paused allowing a sinister smirk to materialize before he concluded, "I don't think so."

Blake felt irritated at the beginning but the feeling shifted to that of disgust once he was faced by the quitter's attitude. Giving up on the man opposite to him, he ridiculed with disinterest, "Keep believing that, Norman, and you'll always be the pansy druggie you are." With that, Blake turned around, hinting the end of this awkward exchange, before he addressed their current situation, "Com'n, I'll go first so I can catch your stony ass if you fall." He didn't wait for any kind of acknowledgment from the addressee and started his descent. The older man could have sworn that younger muttered something like "You wish" but he didn't pursue the idea when he saw Jayden coming down the ladder.

Blake was the first to reach the bottom of the ladder, followed by Jayden who, fortunately, didn't require any assistance while descending. Once connected with solid ground, the agent seemed to avoid eye-contact with his companion, before he got absorbed in marching towards the center of the yard. His steps faltered when he saw Shaun observing them from behind the watery glass where he was seated in Blake's car. Under the innocent gaze that brightened with the reclaimed sense of safety, Jayden realized that he was no hero and never would be. How could an addict be one if he preferred selfish ecstasy over comforting a cold and frightened child?

Jayden felt little self-worth left go down the drain when Shaun smiled at him while waving a small hand from beyond the separating glass. He never saw himself as a true hypocrite, not until an innocent being was that object of his outrageous hypocrisy. Faced by the ugly truth of his own self, he averted his gaze only to meet that of Blake who was observing him in icy silence; which soon melted when he remarked, "You look as if you've seen a ghost, did you?" Jayden rushed an answer that he only realized its stupidity later, "No," before he explained more rationally, "I feel tired. I'll go to the hotel." With that, he sought his car in the distant without glancing backward.

Jayden was still close enough to hear Blake's voice through the hammering rain when he shouted, "You should let the paramedics have a look at your cuts. They aren't that far. I could hear their sirens." The senior cop found this nice gesture of concern an alien one but felt bound to give considering the ghostly whiteness that Jayden acquired when he saw the smiling boy. At first he felt little sympathy to the man since he was just reaping the fruits of guilty seeds that he'd sowed earlier. Yet, a repentant is ought to be forgiven; unlike persisting sinners.

Jayden paused his movement feeling touched by the sudden tender signal that, though camouflaged with disinterest, was still kind enough. He smiled tiredly and turned around to shout back, "I'll be fine," he paused for a second, as if he was weighting his next statement, but carried on, "Thank you, Carter. Regardless of our differences, I appreciate it." A moment of unspoken acknowledgment followed before Jayden turned around and continued his walk towards the car.

Blake stood for a moment observing the other man getting in his vehicle before he put it into motion and drove away from the complex. He didn't really know how to feel about the troubled profiler so he tried to summarize all emotions summoned by the younger man since his arrival. There was dislike at first that evolved later into irritation then anger, before it settled on belittling the other man and discrediting everything he stood , what he had achieved tonight changed the why the lieutenant viewed him but not that drastically. It added some value to the annoying FBI brat but Blake's judgmental streak would always portrait him as the junkie that he was. No matter what Jayden did, he was a mere addict that could, at any moment, sink low beyond salvage.

Exhaling for the night, Blake admitted the truth so clearly that he even announced it to the witnessing rain, "What a waste." With this confession that confirmed the futility of the situation, he found himself watching Shaun warmly. He couldn't help but speak to the baffled kid who didn't seem to understand what this was all about, "Grow up to be a better man otherwise it will be another waste of good asset." He chuckled upon hearing his own rude remark but he didn't even scold himself for the inconsiderate act. Inconsiderate was his nature, and who he was to defy Mother Nature.

* * *

A/N: This story was designed to reflect Jayden's addiction from Blake's POV throughout the course of the investigation. Blake wasn't expected to act as the savior for a man that he only knew for days. As for Jayden and considering his age, his addiction problem needs more than one push of a button to solve it. That's why I feel that "On my Watch" has come to a proper end at this point. Feel free to agree or disagree.

While drafting the ending, I wrote a light and flexible epilog that could stand alone as a one-shot. Do you think I should post it here or as a sequel for the story?

In the end, thank you for the support. I wouldn't have committed if it weren't for you guys ^_^

Bye!


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